


The Other One - Afternoon

by claro



Series: The Other One [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Implied Incest, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 04:53:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11684493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claro/pseuds/claro





	The Other One - Afternoon

Hours passed, bleeding into days and then weeks. The tentative relearning of each other, reestablishing their place in each other's lives. Quiet conversations late at night, the reassuring brush of fingers or a hand ghosting across the small of a back. They were never going to forget what they were, but they were learning how to see beyond it. The wrongness that occassionally threatened to overwhelm them always pushed to the side until eventually it was just a low hum in the background, over ridden by the rightness they found in each other.

To his credit, since his one admission that he'd known all along, Sherlock had never spoken again about the secret Mycroft and Greg were keeping. At first both Greg and Mycroft had been constantly on edge, waiting for the moment when Sherlock would use his knowledge to cause the most amount of destruction, the first Sunday dinner at the Mycroft's parent's house was torture, with both men jumping every time Sherlock spoke or even glanced their way.

Eventually, exhausted from waiting to be exposed, Greg had finally snapped at Sherlock.

'Just say it and get it over with!' he'd shouted.

Sherlock blinked at him as if confused, 'Say what?'

By December it had become apparent that Sherlock was not going to say anything. Perhaps he had deleted it in some act of self preservation, or perhaps he just didn't care. Either way, Mycroft and Greg gradually started to relax.

But Christmas changed things in a way that Greg was not prepared for.

Violet, still deep in her grief over the loss of her soulmate, had reached out to all she could and invited Greg's parents to spend the holidays, and the Lestrades, delighted that Mycroft and Greg were back together, had been thrilled to attend. Sherlock had dragged John along, fresh from his latest break up and not in the mood to celebrate.

The days at the farmhouse passed quietly, bar Sherlock's daily tantrums and the occassional swear word or slammed door from John. Mycroft was frequently distracted by an urgent phone call, leaving Greg to entertain both sets of parents, who had always gotten along well.

He let the older folks conversation wash over him at lunch, looking from one to the other, wondering what they would think if they knew the truth. When he glanced in Violet's direction he was startled to find her staring back at him with the same intensity he was used to seeing on Mycroft or Sherlock. He found himself just looking back at her, struggling for something to say, pinned in place as he was by her scrutinizing gaze. Without warning Violet turned her head away and smoothly joined in the conversation again, no one else noticing anything amiss.

Feeling unnerved and slightly unsettled, Greg went to find Mycroft after lunch, hoping he had finished his conference call. Instead he found Violet, who was loading a tea tray in the kitchen. She smiled softly at Greg.

'Would you like some tea, Gregory?'

'...um, no thank you. I was looking for Mycroft...'

'He's shouting at someone in Yemen,' Violet informed him, 'He may be a while.'

'Oh. Right.'

Violet rearranged the cups to make room for the sugar bowl, 'I'm so glad your parents came, they are pleased you and Mycroft are happy.'

Greg bit his lip, 'Yeah. They are.'

Violet gave him another of her thoughtful looks and then her smiled turned soft, 'You look so like your father.'

As usually happened when people said that to him, Greg let out an involuntary laugh. His resemblance to Jean Christophe Lestrade was purely coincidental, but he'd be lying if he said it hadn't made his childhood easier.

'Actually I was adopted,' he said with the same self consciousness that had never really left him every time he said those words, 'I think you mean-'

'I know exactly what I mean,' Violet patted his hand and then lifted the tea tray and left Greg standing alone in the kitchen, his world tilted once again.


End file.
